Gift of the Black Virgin (3 page)

Anna was the one who called by the house with
a big bag of dog food on that first day, apologizing for the
presumption that Jo would look after Otis while his owners were
preoccupied. Then she asked if Jo had any milk, enough bread, and
offered to pick up anything else she might need, explaining that
Luc would never think of stopping for supplies on his way home.

Later, when Daniel woke up, it was Anna who
called Jo with the good news. Jo could hear the tears in her voice
when she said her son was out of danger, and her heart rejoiced for
both parents.

Anna aside, Jo still couldn’t see how she was
going to fit into Luc’s life. It seemed his plate was already
pretty full.

Of course
she understood.
Intellectually she accepted the way things were. Her fiancé has
suffered the possibility that his only child would be left with a
serious brain injury. At the very least, he would carry a scar on
his forehead to remind his parents of how close he’d come to
disaster. And she understood why Luc believed it was his fault.
Of course
making love would be the furthest thing from his
mind.

But emotionally…well, Jo struggled. She felt
more than neglected—she felt she was in the way. A nuisance,
really, with her bags full of untouched lingerie and useless
stilettos. She wondered if she should go home. Twice she tried to
talk to Luc when he came in late from his bedside vigil. Both times
he just put his arms around her and said, “Not now,
Cherie.
Not now. I’m sorry.”

So she spent her time waiting, wondering if
Luc would once again look at her with the same expression she’d
seen on his face when he kissed her goodbye at the Vancouver
airport.

Was it only three weeks ago?

Nights were the worst. Lying beside him and
not being able to make love to him was torture. Silently, they
would get into bed, then he would take her gently in his arms, kiss
her as if she were a child, and pass out cold. Sleepless with
longing and anxiety, all she could do was
feel
him, revel in
the warmth of his big, hard body, no less powerful in sleep. She
would bury her face in his chest, or against his back, and breathe
him in, relishing the smell of his skin through the T-shirt he
insisted on wearing. He left his shorts on too, a sign that she was
to respect his privacy. Even his tattoo was covered. The black and
white Yin and Yang on his bicep had come to symbolize the perfect
union she felt she shared with him—and now it was withheld from
her. It was as if his very self was withheld from her.

Seeing as nudity was inappropriate at the
moment, she had to sleep in the only nightdress she had—a flimsy
silk gown that was far too sexy for the occasion. But sleep evaded
her, and each night she tossed and turned and couldn’t stop
thinking, thinking, thinking.

If only things had turned out
differently….

Can I really do this?

In her solitude, Jo relied on the Internet
and email to keep in touch with the rest of the world. Her mother,
a new widow, wasn’t to be bothered, Jo knew, but she was free to
spill her guts to her sister, Julie.

When email wasn’t enough, Jo used her cell
phone, not caring how much it cost.

“I’m so scared, Jules. Even if there’s no
permanent damage, how do I turn into a step-mother overnight? To a
kid who doesn’t want me? And Luc’s no help. He’s never home. And
when he is, he just looks right through me like I’m invisible. He
won’t talk about my moving here. Or when we’re getting married. You
know, important stuff.”

Julie had two young children of her own, and
was adamant that Jo give Luc all the time he needed. “You can’t be
bothering him with things like that right now, Jo.
Think
about it. Think about what you’re saying. His son could have
died.
Or been seriously brain damaged
.
Or gone
blind.” Jo could hear her take a deep breath. “You know that tenor
that Mom loves so much—the blind one—isn’t he blind because of a
soccer injury?”

Jo hesitated. “Andrea Bocelli. Yes, I think
you’re right.”

Oh my God—blind! I hadn’t even thought of
that. What kind of horrible person am I?

“I know. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of
myself,” Jo said, feeling chastised. “But I’ve uprooted my entire
life for him. At the very least, I need him to acknowledge
that.”

And I want him to fuck me
, she
couldn’t help thinking, as she chewed on her fingernail. He’d
barely touched her since she’d arrived.

“I know it must be hard on you, sweetie, but
don’t give him any more trouble than he already has. Trust me on
this. When you have a child of your own, you’ll understand. It
sounds to me like you’ve got a pretty great guy there. Would you
really want a man who
wasn’t
a basket case in this
instance?”

“No. I guess not,” Jo said faintly.

“Right. Just love him. He needs you.”

After saying goodbye, Jo thought about
Julie’s wise words. Of course her sister was right, but she’d
unintentionally hit the nail on the head.

All I want to do is marry Luc and have his
child—yet all he can think about right now is the child he already
has.

Since the moment she’d joined the Cult of the
Black Virgin, Jo had allowed Luc to become everything to her. But
Daniel’s accident had made it clear that she might not be
everything to him. And that made her vulnerable. She’d suffered so
much loss—first her father, then her engagement to one of Seattle’s
most sought-after bachelors. Then there was Brenda, who would
probably never speak to her again. Finally, leaving her home, her
family and her job behind was not easy. After all that, she
couldn’t afford to lose Luc, too.

Sometimes she wished she could talk to
Brenda, her closest friend. But not the Brenda she’d left furious
and hurt back in Seattle. She wanted the
old
Brenda. The one
she’d loved like a sister. The one from before they’d gone to Spain
and ruined their friendship.

No doubt the old Brenda would give Jo very
different advice than Julie did. She would probably tell her to
dump Luc and come back to work.

And into her bed…

Like that would ever happen…

But still, Jo missed her friend.

During the day, while she waited for Luc to
come home, she replayed her last conversation with Brenda, which
had been an ugly one. Jo was living in Vancouver then, and had just
dropped Luc at the airport. She came home, poured herself a big
glass of wine, steeled herself, and called Brenda’s number in
Seattle.

“You’re doing
what?”
Brenda screeched
into the phone.

“I said, I’m getting married.”

“Are you fucking
insane!
You barely
know the guy. And he’s
French!”
She pronounced the word
French
as if she’d just bitten into something
disgusting.

“You know how crazy in love I am, Bren.”

“Crazy, yes. You’re absolutely fucking crazy
if you think you can run off and live in a foreign country. Where
you don’t know anyone. And, besides, your French sucks.”

That was true. Jo could read French well
enough, but her conversational skills were limited.

“And what about
me
?” Brenda’s voice
dropped to an ominous tone. “Do you think you’re going to just run
out on
us
, the magazine, and all we’ve created? For a big
fat French
cock
?”

Jo and Brenda had essentially built the
Westcoast lifestyle magazine together. Although it was Brenda’s
baby, Jo had helped it grow every step of the way. Leaving now, on
such short notice, was essentially traitorous.

Jo winced, keeping her voice small. “I didn’t
want to leave so soon. But I have to go, Bren.”

“You really are something. And you fucking
well owe me more than a week’s notice. How the hell am I supposed
to manage without you.”

“You can,” Jo said uncertainly.

“You are one fucking selfish bitch, you know
that! And I think you’re completely deluding yourself. If you think
you’re so in
love
that you have to run off with some man you
barely know—some jerk you claim is the love of your life, some
asshole you think you’re going to die without—think again. You’re
dead wrong. You don’t know yourself as well as you think you do.
And I’ve got the videos to prove it.”

Jo recoiled as if she’d been slapped. She
really didn’t think Brenda would open that can of worms.

That fucking camera! She was fooling around
with it when I was in bed with Danny. I told her to put it away,
but I don’t remember what happened after that.

“What are you talking about?” Jo asked,
trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

But it wasn’t easy to fool Brenda.

“You know damned well what I’m talking about.
I think that lover boy of yours might be interested in seeing what
you were doing while you were
supposed
to be pining away for
him. I’d bet he’d
love
to see what a naughty little girl
you’ve been. And how you can get it up for girls just as much as
you can for boys.”

Jo pulled herself higher in her chair and
took a big swallow of her Chardonnay. Then she filled her lungs
with air and exhaled slowly, the wine forming a nauseous bubble in
her stomach. “Brenda. I really regret that things between us have
sunk so low. I love you and I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly. But
it’s bigger than me. I know I can’t ask you to be happy for me. Or
forgive me. But can you at least try to understand? Please?”

She didn’t hear anything on the other end of
the line.

“I’m going to go now. I’ll keep in touch.
Bye.”

Every time she thought of it, Jo shuddered at
the memory of what she and Brenda had done in Spain, enticed by
their handsome young Spanish boy toy. But she didn’t believe her
friend would actually stoop to blackmail.

What’s in it for Brenda? Revenge? Don’t I
have enough trouble with the Black Virgin punishing me?

But maybe she deserved it. She felt a pang of
guilt every time she thought about how much Brenda had done for
her. The dream job as an assistant editor was just one of Brenda’s
extravagant gestures. Then there was the trip to Spain, ostensibly
to help Jo forget about Luc. Not to mention the constant emotional
support.

And how did Jo repay her friend’s loving
generosity? By running out on her the moment Luc reappeared.
Certainly, Jo regretted leaving the magazine in the lurch for much
of its editorial content, among other things. But there were plenty
of other talented, willing copywriters and editors standing in line
to fill her shoes. Besides, she had legitimate reasons for quitting
like she did.

And—as Brenda’s threat had reminded her—not
all of them were about Luc.

Chapter Three

On her fourth night in Luc’s house, sitting
with Otis after another lonely microwaved meal—and fortified by
more than half a bottle of quite tasty homemade wine—Jo decided it
was time to ask for a little something for herself. Daniel was out
of danger, and life had to move on. She hadn’t quit her dream job
for nothing. She hadn’t broken a costly lease on a fabulous
penthouse in beautiful downtown Vancouver for nothing. And she
hadn’t given the tenant in her Seattle condo an eviction notice,
and begun packing up everything she owned, for nothing.

She’d done all of these things for love. But
she wasn’t feeling much love from Luc’s side. Studying the delicate
Art Nouveau-
style engagement ring he’d bought for her in
Vancouver, she wondered if marrying him would be a mistake.
Concussed child or not, couldn’t he see he needed to give her at
least a little of what she needed? And if his son was always going
to come first…

He got home just after ten that evening,
looking a bit better than he had all week. There was color in his
face, and he was actually smiling when he walked through the
door.

“
Bon soir, ma biche. Ça va?
” he said
as he hung up his jacket and bent down to greet Otis, who was
bouncing ecstatically around his feet.

Jo had been practicing her conversational
French and had asked Luc to speak French whenever they were
together. She needed all the guidance she could get before she made
the big move.

“I’m fine,” she answered in English, throwing
him a look from the sofa that stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re not,” he said, walking over to her
and dropping to his knees. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as he entered the room, her
misgivings evaporated. It happened every time. Somehow he possessed
the unconscious ability to make her fall in love with him over and
over again, just by the mere fact of his presence. All she had to
do was look at him…

Tall—about six foot two—wide of shoulder,
strong of limb, Luc was as perfect a physical specimen as she’d
ever seen. He was good looking, absolutely, but it was the smile he
flashed her that had the power to make her bones melt and her
resolve collapse.

She felt her face flush, and she opened her
mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Julie’s right. How can I even think of
myself when he’s going through this terrible time? I’m a selfish
cow.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.

But she had his attention now, it seemed. She
knew she had to seize the moment and tell him. About her fears, her
loneliness, her hurt feelings, and her uncertainty about their
future together. So she did, choosing her words carefully, so she
wouldn’t sound as selfish as she felt.

Still kneeling on the floor in front of her,
without interrupting, he listened to everything she had to
say—really listened, she could tell. She liked the way he held onto
both of her hands and watched her face as she spoke, running a
thumb back and forth over her engagement ring. Then he got up and
moved beside her, took her in his arms and hugged her, hard. The
smell of him was overwhelmingly comforting and erotic at the same
time, and she snuggled deeper into his chest.